At the End of the Day
by ninjakat405
Summary: Somewhat sequel of "To Make a Friend". But PruCan on request. Just going to be a bunch of one-shots (hopefully) requested by you! Almost no plot. Just fun fluff! Rated T. For now. Let's see what kind of havoc you guys can wreak!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **Kat? What are you doing?

Ask and you shall receive! That's from Jesus, right?

All of you really, really, REALLY liked the PruCan from my 100-day Challenge. Like...obsessive. And if you didn't, well too bad! Because this is all that is. PruCan fluff. So. Much. Fluff. And you thought I was done X3 I was Skyping Gabrika a few nights ago (the amazing girl who translated that challenge into Spanish 3) and told me that one her friends was asking if I was going to do anything with the established PruCan (something about her living in Germany and wanting to go to Switzerland...if that's one of you reading this, I'd really like to say hi), and I thought why the hell not!? So, here it is!

This is the most non-plot-y think I've ever done. PruCan fluf with no hint of a destination. If you'd like to see more, I'd be glad to do more. Leave a comment. PM me. Can this be a request kind of thing? 'Cause I'm kind of digging this slash but I have no idea where to go with it. Just no M stuff. I suck at it. I can do violence, just no yaoi. We cool with that? Coolios. Maybe I'll fix all those typos in the challenge...

And hey, if anyone wants to Skype or something (Omegle's so much fun XD) I never run out of stuff to say (If you couldn't tell by now...). Hey, if enough people want it, I'll put my skype name on my profile or something. People are awesome. Love you all!

**I DON'T OWN HETALIA. **If I did, college would be a much better place.

* * *

It had been a peaceful day. Had, being the keyword.

Matthew was able to clean most of the house (the bathroom wasn't his job and _he _knew it, no matter how many times he tried to pass it off as forgetfulness). The floors were mopped, the furniture dusted, dishes washed, and carpets vacuumed. The bedroom was – he felt the blush creep up his face as he told himself – would just get messy again within the next few days, so not much attention was spent tidying up the room and making the bed.

Now he was just stretching out on the couch, watching a college hockey game. Something happened – a fight, a score – there was a loud commotion and jerky movements, but the smaller, quieter sounds of the referee speaking were swallowed by the slam of the front door.

Matthew felt his heart beat a faster and his breath come a little shower at the sound. It was stupid. He wasn't a freshman watching his crush from one classroom over. He shouldn't be getting so flustered over this. He wasn't even in the room yet and he was acting like they were already naked in bed!

"Hey, Birdie! I'm home!" Oh, what the hell. Just the sound of his voice made him shiver. When he felt the couch compress further under the added weight of another body, he suddenly forgot how to breathe. Even after all this time Matthew couldn't stop the rush of love and happiness and overall nervousness that swirled himself him when he was near. "So, I went to Ivan's today," Gilbert began.

Matthew pried his eyes away from the safe haven of the television and forced them to look upon the sharp face of his boyfriend. Gilbert was amazing as ever, glowing with (what he called "awesomeness) childish impatience, confidence pouring from his being. It made Matthew feel important and confident just sitting in his shadow.

The blond reached up and tentatively ran his fingers over the purple bruise around Gilbert's eye. "I can see. Does it hurt? I can get something-"

"From that bastard?" The albino laughed. "Pfft, he couldn't even punch out Francis if he tried. Don't worry about it, babe. The awesome me can handle anything that poor excuse of a man could ever dish out." He took Matthew's hesitant fingers and kissed them. "So, yeah, I was at Ivan's. Wanted to make sure he wasn't doing anything mean or gross to that adorable kid of theirs. Your family's got some awesome genes – though not as awesome as mine. I wonder what our kids could look like. So much more awesome, right?"

Matthew nodded, his face going red. Gilbert still held his hand. Loosely, but he didn't feel any need to pull them back.

"While Ivan was a total idiot around everything, Alfred's actually a really great parent, you know? Much better than Ivan. God, how did he even make it that far, being so dumb and unawesome?"

"I-I don't know, Gil." It was really strange how he could hear his brother's name and not instantly feel a burning hate deep in his gut. A good kind of strange. A really good. He didn't want to hate him anymore. Alfred didn't want him to hate.

"You know what that means?"

"What?"

"We have to make better babies than your brother! Which they will be, of course, because they'll not have the awesomeness passed down to them through me, but I'll teach them how to be just as awesome as their daddy! When you want to," the albino added quickly. Matthew smiled. "And you better teach them how to make pancakes as good as you do."

Matthew felt the corners of his lips turn up and Gilbert grinned from ear to ear. His grip on his hand tightened, not enough to hurt, but enough for Matthew to notice it. "Can you make me pancakes?"

"Right now?"

"Yes right now!"

"Gil, it's almost nine in the evening."

"The perfect time for pancakes!" He tugged at his boyfriend's arm, forcibly trying to get him off the couch. Gilbert could have easily picked him up and carried him to the kitchen, but watching him try to resist was so much cuter.

"You say that every time you want pancakes," Matthew grumbled, but she stood up anyway, earning himself another grin and a quick kiss on the cheek. He flushed and turned to the kitchen, if only to hide his reddening face from view.

"That's because it's always a time for pancakes. Especially your pancakes, Birdie."

The blond nodded absentmindedly as he grabbed a frying pan from the cabinet and began to rummage through the fridge for milk and eggs. How had he fallen in love with his boisterous, loud-mouthed idiot again? Glancing over his shoulder to see Gilbert pulling out napkins and silverware, he sighed contently. How could he not fall in love with him?


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **I've been meaning to write this for a looonnng time now, but I've been really busy. Class ends next week and term projects are popping up everywhere and piling up! I've finally managed to wrestle some time in and get to this.

I've mentioned that this is purely based on anything you guys want to see happen (except explicit lemons because I suck at that stuff). So I'm saying that again: leave a review of what you want! Or PM me. I love talking to people and I'm usually really bored when I have free time, so hit me a message whenever.

This was requested from someone reading the Spanish translation. Prompt: **Matthew hurts Gilbert while playing hockey and must nurse him back to health. **

I DON'T OWN HETALIA.

* * *

Gilbert poked the blonde with the stick, urging him to the front door. "Just get a move on, will you? It'll be dark by the time we get there if you don't get that shapely ass moving!" His red eyes flickered down. Yup, just as shapely and awesome as ever. Not as awesome as his ass, but it was a close competition.

Matthew fidgeted. "But it's dark as it is, Gil. And what if the pond isn't as solid as we think?"

"Then we get a little wet." He poked his boyfriend again. "C'mon, Mattie! Please?" With a sigh, Matthew gathered up the hockey gear and loaded up the car as Gilbert jumped in the front seat, ready to head to the park.

The blonde glanced outside the frosty car window and worried at his bottom lip. At this time of year, the sun came up early and went down early. Already the sky was turning a light gray of late afternoon, a warning that it was getting closer to sunset. A feather-light touch on his knee made him turn his attention away from the snowy landscape and he found Gilbert's hand resting on his leg.

"You afraid I'll beat you?" he asked, smirking. He brought the car around a wide turn and into the entrance to the small field.

An uncertain small crossed Matthew's face. "I don't think you can even beat Anya, yet."

"That's why I have to practice! And why not with the God of Hockey himself!"

Matthew blushed and hid his face in the trunk of the car and began pulling out the bags of protective gear. He tossed them to the ground only for Gilbert to pick them right up and stomp through the few inches of fresh snow to the pond. The water was ice – how many feet of solid liquid it was, was anyone's guess – and covered with its own layer of powdered white.

While he was waiting for the master of hockey, he yanked on the pads (he knew how that worked, at least) and only confused the knee and elbow pads once – a large improvement in his opinion. By the time Matthew was ready to go, Gilbert was dressed and excited.

"I don't know how much time we'll have to practice," Matthew said, glancing up at the sky again.

"We'll have enough." The albino slapped his hockey stick to the ice and skated on. "Hit me!"

"Okay…"

It went very well for the first half-hour. Matthew had to re-teach Gilbert how to hold the hockey stick, but neither minded. Gilbert liked the warmth of his boyfriend on his back and Matthew enjoyed the feeling of wrapping his arms around him – even if it was a sport about punching each other in the face. Gilbert even managed to get one goal in. Against Matthew's thirty-five. But it was one more score than he had before and that was good enough.

High on his many accomplishments, Gilbert skated a victory lap around the edges of the pond. "I'm so awesome!" he cried to the silent evening. "One more, Matthew, I totally got this!"

The blonde glanced up from the equipment he had begun to pack away. "Gil, it's almost completely dark out. I can't see anything beyond three feet."

"Maybe you just need new glasses then. C'mon! One more! One more!" Another lap, another round of cheering.

Matthew sighed and placed a puck on the ground, grabbed a stick, and aimed where he though Gilbert's voice was coming from. He pulled back his hands and swung forward. A sharp crack resounded in the air, followed by a thud and a scream. Matthew's blood turned to ice.

"G-Gil?"

"Schiße! Gott verdammt! Mein Auge! Das tut weh!"

"Gil!" Matthew sprinted across the pond, slipping and sliding his way to his boyfriend. He fell to his knees to get to eye-level of the man curled up in on himself. The albino's hand was to his face, cupping his eye.

"E-es ist nicht so schwer."

"Gilbert! W—what?" Matthew found the puck a bit aways and picked it up. He chocked at the feeling of something wet and sticky. "I-I hit you! In the eye?" he squeaked.

"Es ist n- it's not so bad," Gilbert repeated. "Don't worry about it, Birdie."

"Don't worry about it? What if you go blind! What if I hit your head so bad you have a concussion?" He struggled to pull Gilbert's hand away from his eye. Then he remembered that it didn't matter because he couldn't see anyway. With a groan of guilt, he pulled Gilbert to his feet and dragged him to the car. He flicked the car's interior lights on and gasped.

A red welt pulsed around Gilbert's eye, making it swollen shut. A cut ran an inch below the eye, ruby red blood dripping down his cheek and onto his shirt. Matthew's hands twitched and shook as he fought over what to do first.

Reduce the swelling, right?

Matthew pulled out an extra jersey and piled snow into a bundle in the cloth. He directed Gilbert to put the make-shift ice pack on his eye and headed back to the trunk for another cloth.

"I'm so, so sorry, Gil," he said, dapping at the cut with a towel. He pulled back at a sharp hiss from his boyfriend. "I'm sorry!"

"You did say it was getting dark," he answered. "My awesomeness was just drowning out your lame worries. I guess I should have listened."

"You won't listen next time, either."

"What was that, Mattie? Gott, this hurts like hell!"

"Let's just get you to a doctor…" Matthew shoved him into the passenger's seat and put the key into the ignition. "Oh, Ivan's going to kill me when he sees what I've done to you…"

"What? Hell no. Ivan'll think that this is a Christmas miracle or something. Hold on. We're not telling him anything about this. He'll try to punch out my other eye! And if he asks, tell him something awesome, like I was wrestling a bear away from you or something heroic like that! Okay?"

"O-okay…" Matthew tried to concentrate on the road, but his hands kept shaking from the adrenaline. They weren't going to play hockey for a long time after this.

* * *

**Translations:**

Schiße! Gott verdammt! Mein Auge! Das tut weh! - shit! God dammit! My eye! That hurts!

E-es ist nicht so schwer - I-it is not so bad.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **We have another review! I'm so sorry it took so long to update; I didn't even see the new review.

_Kharissa - Canada comes home from a meeting to find Prussia attempting to cook for him and then there's fluffy teasing :)_

And the fluff-boat sails on. Enjoy~

* * *

It was a relief to see the house come into view as the car crested over the small hill. Matthew's hands loosened their tight hold on the steering wheel and allowed himself to sit back against the seat. Just the sight of the small ranch was enough to dispel the stresses of the day.

The business meeting had been the worse one yet. Matthew couldn't remember for the life of him way he took that job at the insurance company. It was two towns over, in the city, and filled with people much higher up the food chain than he could ever hope to reach. And he, little quiet Matthew, had been boosted up the ranks faster than a shuttle to space and was forced into all kinds of meetings his boss didn't want to attend. Such as the one he was finally returning from.

It had been a three day event hosted at the main company's corporations in the next county. Matthew was frustrated from the lack of progress, amount of stress, and emptiness of his bed when he went to bed at the hotel every night. But he was pulling in the driveway, his arms already quivering as he imagined holding his boyfriend once more.

"I'm home," Matthew called as he managed to get his shaking hands to fit the key into the lock. He didn't bother to slip his shoes off in favor of searching the house for his loved one. The dirt he was tracking across the carpet could wait.

For once, Gilbert's voice wasn't hinting at his location in the house. Nor was it the pet canary as the albino tried to teach it to talk. Video games, music, nor the television was blasting. Instead, it was the smell of food the guided Matthew to their small kitchen.

The smell of burnt food.

Matthew stepped into the room and leaned against the wall, smiling as he savored the moment. Gilbert was hovering over the stove, a pot settled on a burner. Bubbles were rising quickly to the surface of the contents in the pot and a burnt smell floated from the oven, as well as a small amount of smoke.

"Don't tell me Arthur has been teaching you to cook," Matthew chuckled.

Gilbert turned around fast, something liquid flying from the wooden spoon in his hand. His red eyes widened and a smile broke out across his face. "Matthew!" he all but shrieked, and then proceeded to launch himself at the blond.

The hug was gratefully accepted and Matthew allowed himself to press against the solid form of his boyfriend before the attempt at cooking once more took precedence. "What are you trying to do, Gil?"

"Don't do this to me, Birdie. Don't come home after three days and then make fun of me." Gilbert pouted and even his eyes pleaded. Matthew didn't like the glint hiding behind the happiness. "You can up for your mistakes in bed."

Matthew felt a blush rush to his cheeks and fought to keep his composure. "L-let's get the stove and oven off first, eh?" He side-stepped Gilbert's attempt at grabbing his butt and took the time to scrutinize the cooking as he switched off buttons and knobs. "Have you really been living off of…this?" He prodded the mess of over-cooked pasta in the pot.

"Hey! That right there is the product of awesome!" The blond rolled his eyes. "Or, well, I tried to make it as awesome as I am. I usually got unawesome TV dinners and gross fast food, but you said you were coming home today…"

Matthew placed the pan of a charcoal-black pan of sausages from the oven next to the pot of pasta and turned around, frowning. Gilbert was glancing everywhere that wasn't were he was standing and the albino's hands were twisting his shirt. The fact that he had trailed off, his ton uncertain, was more worrying than his actions.

"Gilbert?"

"I thought that, after such a boring and stupid business trip I could cook something and make everything awesome…"

"Oh, Gil…"

"And I knew you don't like brautwurst as much as me but I can only really make sausages and pasta goes pretty awesome with sausages, my brother's boyfriend said, so-"

"Gilbert." The uncertainty in his eyes as he glanced up made Matthew want to hold him to the end of time. His heart twisted with such force that he wondered if he could die from the love that filled him. "That is awesome."

Gilbert cracked a smile. "Of course it was!"

"But don't let Arthur teach you how to cook."

"This is all my work!" Gilbert defended.

"So you mean to tell me that you made all this destruction by yourself?" Matthew teased. "You're even worse than him!"

"You just said it was an awesome idea!"

"In theory, but apparently not in practice."

Gilbert pushed Matthew away with a light shove and picked up his forgotten spoon. "I'll show you theory."

"What are you doing?" Matthew cried with mock horror. "You're going to poison the both of us!"

"Then you make it! I just wanted to make you feel better, but fine! You do more work than necessary." He ruffled Matthew's hair and stepped away from the stove.

"And where do you think you're going?" Matthew chided lightly, grabbing a hold of his sleeve and pulling him back. "I'm going to teach you how to cook properly."

"But, Mattie," he whined.

"You started this mess."

"An awesome mess."

"An awesomely gigantic mess. Let's fix this."


End file.
